He quells the adversity of His men
by Sylvator
Summary: Damian Wayne never really had a need for miracles. Being the son of Batman and an Al-Ghul didn't leave much room for failure or any need for requiring supernatural help. After all, the Al-Ghuls relied on their own and so did Batman. Or maybe all that was just what his young mind wanted to see. So who does one turn to when even Batman can't do the impossible?


**He can quell the adversity of any of his men when all else fails.**

He didn't believe in God, or in religion for that matter. Religion was for the weak after all, for those who needed a written set of rules and laws to run their life…for those who could never make their own lives and claim a hypothetical term as God do it for them even though it didn't exist... this was what he had been taught from the very beginning.

Concept of religion or God was scoffed at in the league of assassins and in the foothold of the Al Ghuls Domain. His mother had erased any thought of religion under her sovereignty, given that probably every religion in the world would go against everything she did. Any information about religion she exposed to her child had been strictly for knowledge's sake. Even when she had to accept able servants or tutors who were religious, they were given strict orders to keep their beliefs to themselves or they could see themselves at the receiving end of a bullet, or a sword more likely.

Damian wondered now, as he helplessly watched Pennyworth and Drake bustling around a screaming Grayson, why his mother had been so particular to stamp out any spiritual belief that could have any possibility to reach him. Talia had exposed to him depth of forms of every kind of knowledge that existed except for religious.

"Rubbish," she had told him with a lace of venom in her silky voice. "We have no use of such superstitious fantasies, my son. The reality is what matters." He had avoided asking her anything on the topic after that. But now he wished he had pursued the matter.

He pressed his back against the cool wall of the cave, willing his legs to _stay put_ and not flinch every time Grayson let out a bloodcurdling cry. He watched with hollowed eyes as his father loomed over his eldest son, trying in vain to calm down the delirious man. His hands were all bloody, so were the sheets he lay on, and Drake's front. The fact that even _Todd_ was there, holding Grayson's body down with sheer strength made Damian's chest constrict: the situation was far worse than he had imagined. It didn't help that a guilty pang shook him every time Grayson tossed his head his way, the clear blue eyes now flaring a sickly green.

Gotham had been as normal as it could get when Batman and Robin had pulled out for patrol that night. Thinking back now, it had been _too_ normal. The hours had gone by slowly and accomplished little: only some muggers and a pickpocket, very rare for Gotham. Grayson had suggested they head back and hopefully the night would have passed without much event. But in Gotham, that was wishful thinking.

They had barely turned and run straight into the Red Hood facing off a cackling redheaded plant mistress and everything had just twisted out of control after that. Todd hadn't been the main problem, but he had delayed their return and Damian would blame him eternally for that, because if the imbecile hadn't showed up, they might have been having a good night's sleep right now…

Poison ivy wasn't the most ferocious criminal on Damian's list, but she had done a fine job of reminding him what underestimation could lead to; in Grayson's case, endless agony. Her plants had been deadlier than before, clear proof she'd been sharpening her claws, and they had pounced with more murderous intent than previously. At that time, between dodging poisoned thorns and slicing through the brush, Damian had been relieved that Todd had joined them, no matter how unintentionally. Between the three of them, they had managed to dissipate most of the thorny greenery, without many scratches. But the mad redhead had brought enough for backup and it wasn't long before Damian found himself face to face with the biggest thorn bush he had ever seen. He didn't have to think deep to figure it was venomously poisonous, what with its deranged appearance and utterly putrid smell. It had attacked and he'd been careless not to move quicker. It was much bigger than him and he most certainly would've had his back pierced through with a giant spike…if Grayson, in his stupid act of selflessness, hadn't bounded forward to step in front of him.

The thorn had pushed through Batman's shoulder, spraying Damian with blood. He only had a second to exchange a horrified glance with Todd before the world tilted: Grayson let out the loudest yell Damian had ever heard. His eyes narrowed in pain and burned _green_. And Damian would have stayed rooted in shock had Todd not taken action, bellowing instructions to Drake over Damian's com.

Poison ivy had bolted immediately, worry evident in her features, mirroring the two Robins' fear. Whatever venomous concoction the plant had held definitely beat Bane: _Grayson was completely out of control._ The Batman growled into the night air with inhumane frequency and everything within an inch of him was either reduced to powder or thrown across the alley with superhuman strength, bursting to debris.

"He's batshit crazy!" Todd had grabbed Damian out of the Grayson's path before he lost a limb, and really, his entire abdomen from the car that was tossed-yeah, _tossed-_ his way. Poison ivy completely forgotten, both Robins worked on somehow to control the rampaging Batman. But given his condition, the most they could do was clear his path of any stragglers. Help arrived in the form of Bruce with a long, thick syringe and between the three of them, after about half an hour of hurling out of death strikes; the original Batman had somehow managed to plunge the needle in Grayson's arm. The acrobat had been only slightly sedated but it was enough to bind his limbs and drag him off to the cave.

And now, they loomed over him: Todd keeping a strong grip on Grayson to keep him from lashing out, Pennyworth desperately trying to stop the blood that seemed to flow endlessly from Grayson's shoulder, Drake and Father tapping away the computer's consoles and exchanging tubes of brewing chemicals. And Damian…he just stood and watched, watched his brother writhing in agony, tearing away at his own body in frustration and mindless bloodlust.

His Father had told him to go and rest since he wasn't much help, but he had point-on ignored him, eyes never wavering from Grayson's struggling form. Due to Drake's constant rambling to Bruce, he figured that the chemical scorching through Grayson's system was more of a mix of Bane's venom with some of Poison Ivy's own creativity, and thus the resulting inhumane strength and loss of mind control.

Standing there, Damian thought he had never felt more helpless…or more useless. This problem clearly required Drake's line of expertise, Todd's strength and Alfred's medical skills. There was no need for a gutsy ten-year-old who had been the source of this problem in the first place. There was nothing Damian could do except watch and wish… wish for what, _from_ what…from _who_?

Extreme blood loss coupled with increasing compatibility of the chemical, it was clear they weren't getting anywhere. Even with both Drake and father's expertise, they just couldn't extract the correct antidote. Todd was losing his hold, Pennyworth shaking his head and Grayson's screams just rose louder. Everything was falling apart, if it hadn't already. It bothered Damian more than he thought: having lived with these people for the past year, he had thought that together with their different unique skills, they could solve _anything_. He had thought his father, his model of perfection, could solve anything.

But it dawned slowly, painfully, that for all their bravado and uniqueness, they were just human; just walking talking structures of flesh, blood and bone… nothing else. And that fact in itself was more discouraging than anything else.

Surely there was someone, _anyone_ , who could perform miracles with sheer will? Someone who was not human or anything like other helpless creation?

And that was when the thought of a God entered Damian Wayne's head.

Searching in his short, but rich memory of the past years of his short life, he only came up with a few counted moments where he had ever thought of a being as Great and Powerful as God. A being Who was the Master of creation and held every power in His hand and One who could raise Grayson's adversity when few of the most powerful people he had known could not.

In his education, he had studied only strictly relevant information about the three greatest religions in the world. Christianity hadn't been lost on him as Judaism had, but since the Al Ghuls' origin rooted from the East, Islam had been the one he came to know more about. Most of his tutors had been Arabs and the Middle- East was notorious for its religious, especially Islamic, beliefs. Most of his Arab tutors had been Muslims and Talia had hired them simply for the word of their greater experience in the educational scheme and of course, that they keep any spiritual nonsense away from her son.

Though his mother had taken lengthy measures to ensure that any threat about religion never reached her ward, even she could do only so much when said ward demanded the very information she banned on him…

It had been one of his favorite tutors, among the very few who seemed to cling to their morals despite the tremendous threat of Talia al Ghul. His name had been Muhsin _ibn al Huzaifah_ , meaning ' _the son of the one worthy of God's praise'._ He had introduced himself as being a Muslim from Jordon. Damian had acquaintance from him in only a couple of hours after noon daily, and he taught him the complex rules of ' _Al_ _Jabra'_ which would, otherwise, have no means of reaching an ordinary nine-year-old.

The topic had sprung when Damien had caught him muttering some sort of verbal prayer and demanded to know what he was doing. "Reciting a _Du'a,_ young sir. It is a verbal form of calling to God."

"Even though _God_ does not exist?" Damien had interjected with obvious disdain.

"He is there," Ibn al Huzaifah confirmed ever so gently. "Human eyes are not subject to everything in creation."

"Calling to a being who can never guarantee on hearing your call? What childishness is this?"

"Do not scoff at beliefs which purify the soul, Child." "

"I do not need some false concept of God to purify me. I am purified in the way I am and in the way of my heritage."

The man had given a slight shake of his head. "No human can purify himself on his own. Humans are nothing without God's mercy…"he had trailed off thoughtfully. Damian, with the ever so curious mind, hadn't stopped, however. "That is mere superstition, Ibn al Huzaifah, an excuse to appear weak in the face of challenge and claiming that you have God's protection in the hereafter, simply because you _believe_. What else is there about your religion that speaks of such mundane existences?"

The defiance on hearing his religion insulted had been clear in the Arab's eyes, but he had controlled his expression with effort. "I had rather not say, young sir. Your mother does not wish for me to speak of my beliefs to you."

"My mother is living in the ridiculous notion that your imprudent excuse of a religion will influence me in any way. I assure you, she is wrong. And I will constrain any indication of this conversation around her for your sake. So tell me…what else can your God do that powerful people like the Al Ghuls cannot?"

The man had looked him straight in the eyes then, all evidence of any careful façade gone. His hazel eyes burned with indignant fire and his voice was an angry, but ever so thoughtful whisper when he spoke next. "He can quell the adversity of any of His men when all else fails."

The cave and Batman's cries faded momentarily in the background when this phrase resurfaced in Damian's mind.

" _He can quell the adversity of any of His men when all else fails_."

Simply put, He can make miracles happen. And right now, nothing short of a miracle was required to save Grayson's life.

Damien stood frozen for a minute, his back no longer pressed against the wall of the cave. Sucking in an inaudible breath he surveyed the scene and the faces of his family in front of him: the frustrated faces, the fallen expressions, the bloodied hands and the ceasing hope. He took a last glance at the most treasured of them and saw no amount of peace in Grayson's distorted expression. Without a word, he turned and exited the cave with whisper light footsteps.

The garden wasn't the most ideal place to make a prayer, perhaps, but at least it was furthest away from any spying eyes. Damian stood silently among the small lilacs, gazing by the moonlight into their depths and inhaling their earthy scent. The night hair hung low, cold and biting at the scratched and bloody skin on his forearms. The moon, nearly full, appeared clear and vast in the sky.

Slowly, Damian reached up for his Robin's cape and pried it loose from his shoulders. He glanced around once in the moonlit garden and sank slowly to his knees. He didn't know what to do, how to address…he had never been taught this… a serious flaw in his superb education…

He thought about Ibn al Huzaifah; the man had been very humble, almost ridiculously so, and had claimed in an undertone that his God despised the proud. To gain God's attention, then, pride would have to be put away. Surprisingly, it wasn't hard: Damian already felt childishly weak from that night's encounter and that part of him accepted that he was bound to be weak simply because he was human.

But God wasn't human… that was the whole difference, right? And if God could hear Ibn Al Huzaifah's silent prayer inside the evil hole that was the Al Ghul's residence, then surely He could hear a weak boy's plea from a moonlit garden.

"Help him…" he whispered, "I beg of you, save him…please…"

His mother would claw her hair out, screech in humiliation at the pitiful posture her one and only son had taken in front of the very Being she had tried to hide him from. But Damian didn't care. He had stopped caring about his mother a long time ago. He had stopped caring about _evil_ a long time ago…

"It was _my_ carelessness, _my_ arrogance… do _not_ make him pay for it… he has paid enough prices for me already…"

" _He can quell the adversity of any of His men when all else fails_."

"I cannot help him. Father cannot, no one can… but maybe…if You are there…hear me…"

There was hardly any change in the atmosphere but the entire settlement had somehow withdrawn into shadows.

"Please, save him, he deserves more… not wounds of my constant failure…help me protect him…"

He didn't cry, no, he was too durable, too cold for that. But maybe tears would have given more momentum to his small prayer.

"You are the only hope…don't turn away from me, quell my adversity, because all else has failed…"

"Don't give me a reason to forever avoid your assistance… show me You are true… _there_ …"

He had nothing left to say. It was all he could do. Letting out a strangled breath, he stared down at his lap, a dark mass among the lilacs. The real world rushed back to him as the wind again bit at his cheeks and the moon's light grew sharper.

Damian stayed that way for a long time, not trusting himself to move and make his way back to the cave. He had faced many failures to experience disappointment, but Richard Grayson's situation held him at the tilt of a sword. The smallest movement and blood would flow; the smallest wind of disappointment and his hope would shatter forever.

It was an hour before dawn when a warm hand clasped his shoulder, a sudden contrast to the chilly night air. Damian turned slowly, ominously, with dread pooling in his gut, to look at the weary face of his father. They stared each other down for a few long seconds. Damian refused to speak first, too afraid to ask. His father's expression held nothing of assurance, but it held no crippled lines either.

"Come inside, son. He's insisting on seeing you."

Endeared and somewhat confused, it was all Damian could do from leaping to his feet in haste. Nodding, his father tightened his hold on his shoulder and guided him back into the manor.

Damian wasn't sure what to make of it when he walked into the cave and found Grayson lying still on his back in exactly the place he had left him. He wasn't screaming anymore but Damian wasn't sure if that was a good sign or bad. Todd and Drake were slumped tiredly in front of the bat computer, neither paying him any attention. Shrugging off his father's hand, he walked up to his eldest brother's side and carefully touched his bloody arm.

Dick turned his head toward him, half unconscious. When he opened his eyes, Damian let out a long exhale: Grayson's eyes were bluer than he had ever seen them.

Offering a slight smile of exhaustion, Dick extended his am out to him gingerly. Ignoring the blood, Damian moved forward and let him press his lips softly against his temple.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a hoarse whisper and Damian nodded, throat constricted too tightly to speak. But he didn't have to. "I'm okay, Dami. Tim _accidently_ found the correct antidote before I bled to death. It was a miracle."

"Tt," Damian murmured softly. Dick gave him another small smile before dropping his arm and closed his eyes, already falling asleep.

Damian controlled his trembling limbs with more difficulty than usual and slowly glanced back at his father. Bruce offered him a tight smile and nodded reassuringly. He turned toward Tim and Jason each of who simply looked back at him with equal amount of exhaustion and relief on their features.

" _He can quell the adversity of any of His men when all else fails_."

He did.

He had.

Damian glanced at the dark ceiling of the bat cave, his chest seeming to flutter with flitting emotions. He hoped that God would hear him here too, here in one of the darkest places known to mankind.

He would. He had shown Damian that already. He always would.

 _ **Thank you.**_

He had never meant the words with more feeling.

Alfred chose that moment to enter, with steaming coffee and milk cookies, his old face crinkling tiredly. "Coffee, lads?"

The glow of dawn could never be seen from the cave, but Damian felt its warmth spread through him like comforting fingers.

"Certainly, Pennyworth."

It was a miracle indeed.


End file.
